


Under Not-Quite False Assumption

by craple



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Blood Drinking, Frottage, M/M, Oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craple/pseuds/craple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is there any reason as of why your beloved Shadowhunter is wearing one of your stupid shirts?" Kyle asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Not-Quite False Assumption

**Author's Note:**

> i was bored.

“Uh, dude. Is there any reason as of why your beloved Shadowhunter is wearing one of your stupid shirts?” Kyle asks from where he is standing in front of Simon’s bedroom, jaw-slacked, also possibly having a silent mental breakdown whilst Simon tries to figure out how to defeat an army of Unitologist soldiers before he’s running out of oxygen.

When Simon barely reacts – _does not_ react at all, in fact – Kyle throws a pair of unwashed socks onto his head and marches toward the couch with an irritated huff.

Reaching for the nearest item he can find, which happens to be a neatly folded newspaper, Kyle slaps the back of Simon’s head friendly enough as to not awaken the mark. Simon mock-pouts at him before pauses the game.

As soon as he takes the headphones off his ears, Kyle repeats his question in a slower pace, emphasising every single word he deems appropriate (“Simon, is there any reason as of why your _beloved_ Shadowhunter is _wearing_ one of _your_ stupid _shirts_?”) just to spite him. Simon blinks in confusion.

“Jace is still here?” Simon questions aloud, standing up and walking over to the bedroom which Jace has occupied for Lilith-knows-how-long.

The Shadowhunter is fast asleep beneath the blood-red comforter Luke bought for Simon the week before. Kyle appreciates the old man’s dark sense of humour; it was pretty entertaining to watch the both of them trading subtle indirect insults that made even Magnus Bane smirking in delight.

But still, the room _reeks_ of Simon in every worst way possible. Even his human nose can still pick up the smell of Simon’s shampoo and wet-paper between racks of comic books. Kyle simply cannot understand how Jace can stand sleeping so soundly in Simon’s room, when he barely tolerates Simon on daily basis himself.

Their relationship is very confusing – if they can even call it a ‘Relationship’ rather than ‘Acquaintances’ at all.

Kyle nudges his elbow against Simon’s ribcage urgently. “Shouldn’t we wake him up or something? I’d rather not have him all pissy around the flat while we’re having Assassins Creed marathon.”

Simon makes a face. “I thought you promised for a Death Space marathon!” he hisses.

“Yes well, there will be no marathon tonight if Jace is walking around and insulting our gaming capability and generally being a total asshole, so _fix this_.” Kyle hisses back, gesturing to Jace and Simon and back to Jace, before leaving toward the direction of the kitchen where he restocks the fridge of his food and the freezer of Simon’s share of this weekend’s blood bags.

-x-x-x-

Simon is tucking Jace in the moment Kyle returns to his room.

“What the fuck.” Kyle deadpans, and Simon immediately looks guilty.

“He hasn’t slept for a week, okay, give the guy a break.” Simon says defensively, as he attempts to murder Jace by suffocating him in a pile of blankets Kyle doesn’t even think are theirs.

Kyle sighs and rubs a tired hand over his eyes. He needs a couple of beers for this, and he’s glad that he didn’t forget to snatch a couple of them during his grocery-run. “Fine, just. Don’t blame me when he wakes up later and ruins everything.”

“He won’t,” Simon says. “I promise.”

Jace doesn’t wake up long till the sun rises.

-x-x-x-

(Kyle doesn’t say anything about the lack of Simon’s presence on the couch, or the quiet conversation happening behind the rarely-locked door of Simon’s bedroom in the morning.)

* * *

Kyle leaves for work at precisely a quarter to nine, leaving the flat for them to explore, although Jace has probably known the entirety of Simon’s current living space like the back of his hand, what with him practically living there for nearly a week.

Simon quickly locks the door, turns the play station back on and reaches underneath the TV display where Kyle hides most of his science-fiction DVDs. He inserts Death Space 3 into the slot, and chooses to load his last saved game that Kyle had rudely interrupted yesterday.

Jace settles comfortably in the middle of the couch, surrounded by the horrifying black fluffy cushions, and Simon doesn’t comment on the way he sits so close to Simon, they’re practically _touching_ – which is a thing that Jace _hates_ except when Clary is involved, so. This is a very disturbing situation indeed.

Talk about disturbing –

“Did you notice that Kyle’s been giving me these weird looks all morning?” It was probably just his imagination, but Kyle hasn’t been talking the way he used to, and just before he left, he looked at Simon like Simon has a body hidden under the bed, or something.

“What weird looks?” Jace asks back, nudging Simon’s thigh with his thumb, trailing higher and higher until Simon gives up and hands another controller to him, grudgingly.

Maybe it’s just his imagination, then.

-x-x-x-

Forty-seven minutes later, too engrossed in the game, Simon nearly misses the elbow Jace aims his way. He grumbles, shoves the boy away, and snaps “What?” to which Jace ignores and points at something on Simon’s mouth.

“Your fangs,” Jace says. “They’re elongated.” He pokes at the right fang curiously, and Simon has the childish urge to snap at his finger or suck it down and _that_ is not going to end well.

Simon leans back. “I’m just going to – _blood_.” Simon announces. Barely coherent as he gets to his feet, ignoring Jace’s questioning him about, _something_ ; the sound of Jace’s blood rushing through Jace’s veins is unbearable, at this point.

It’s surprising that he doesn’t even notice the hunger, Simon thinks. He slices the cap of the blood bag with his claw, doesn’t even bother to pour the content into a glass because, fuck normalcy – he’s hungry enough as it is.

He doesn’t notice Jace calling his name and approaching him with extended hand, tapping his shoulder while Simon is lapping at the last drop of blood he can reach, and Simon –

 _Twists_ ; pulls at Jace’s arm and flips him over his shoulder, his stance defensive, and Jace kicks him and shoves him backward until Simon hits the ground; the back of his head knocking painfully against the floor, bringing him back to reality, where he is clutching the front of Jace’s shirt with blood-caked fingers, and Jace is straddling his thighs.

Jace is –

Straddling his thighs, and doesn’t look like he’s going to move soon.

“Uhm.” Simon says. Eloquently. He is the king of eloquence and shall conquer the world with his eloquency.

Jace does not look impressed.

“So,” Jace starts. “Care to explain the sudden psycho-flip? Because I’m pretty sure the mark would have _killed_ me just now –“

“Yes, I know, I’m sorry.” Simon cuts off, hurriedly. “Once you get off of me, I will – explain everything. Now,” Simon pauses, inhales, exhales. “Would you please get off me?”

“I don’t know Simon,” Jace drawls seductively, leaning down and stretching like a very large, very sensual cat. “I am feeling pretty comfortable up here. Don’t you?”

As if emphasising his point, Jace sits back. Then he proceeds to _ruin_ what is left of Simon’s dignity by ground his ass down against Simon’s crotch.

Simon chokes around a very needy moan and accidentally rips Jace’s shirt with his lengthening claws. “Jace,” he grits out through clenched teeth.

Jace completely ignores him, continues squirming around on top of Simon’s thighs instead, pressing and rolling his hips and basically doing _everything_ to make Simon crazy, until Simon gives up and pulls the blonde down in order to push him off.

Instead, Jace falls face-first, and kisses Simon on the lips.

Simon squeaks – tries to push him off, but – Jace shoves his tongue into Simon’s mouth, hands squeezing Simon’s biceps, and Simon _forgets_ to care.

-x-x-x-

Kyle finds them like that twenty five minutes later.

“I don’t want to know.” Kyle says, giving Simon _the look_ that Simon now translates as Kyle’s default look whenever it looks like Jace is going to straddle him again.

He’s on the receiving end of Kyle’s stink eye until the end of the month.

Simon thinks it’s kinda worth it.


End file.
